The IRS agent looked at the folder and exhaled loudly. There was nothing there.
"You were a college student in 2008."
"Yes."
"You earned $6431.23 at Wheeler Trucking."
"Yes."
Just as he had done when the 2005, 2006 and 2007 earnings had been stated, Jonathan Sharp said, "Any additional income recorded in your system may be a result of identity theft. If the name used and the number agrees with that of my client, then we request that an investigation into the crime of identity theft be pursued. If the name does not agree, then someone else used the number. According to past IRS rulings, my client is not responsible for the taxes owed on income earned by another individual who either intentionally or accidentally used his social security number."
The IRS agent stared at Jonathan Sharp knowing the man was a brilliant tax attorney. He wondered how Carl could afford his services.
"You filed a 1040-EZ form."
"Yes. As a college student, I was still a dependent on my father's income tax."
"It looks like everything is okay here."
The IRS handed over an initial audit report stating that no irregularities were found.
"Thank you. We'll expect an final audit report stating that all taxes from 2005 through 2008 have been paid in full post haste," Jonathan said.
"You'll get it."
"My client will be looking for it in the mail," Jonathan said.
"I did notice that there was a recent legal change in name. Why?"
Jonathan answered, "That has no bearing on his tax matters."
"I'm just curious."
"Curiosity is a good thing," Jonathan said staring flatly at the IRS agent.
"That's all. You can go now."
Carl said, "Thank you."
"Thank you," Jonathan said while picking up the recorder that sat on the table. With a flourish, he turned it off earning a sour look from the IRS agent.
Samantha had been waiting for Carl in the lobby before the security area. She had spent the time drinking a coffee and watching the crowd. She joined the two men when they walked out of the elevator and outside the security perimeter.
Outside, Carl said, "Thank you, Jonathan, for all of your hard work."
"That was the most pitiful fucking excuse for an audit that I've ever seen. That was a clear case of someone attempting to use the IRS for harassment purposes," Jonathan said.
In all of his years dealing with the IRS, this was the first time he had witnessed the audit of a 1040-EZ filing for a student with a single summer job without any evidence of additional income. He had been incredulous when he had heard about the audit. He was insulted sitting through it.
"Can we sue them?" Carl asked.
So far they had spent nearly a million dollars of Pfand money pursuing various lawsuits. Every chance where someone could say no, they said no. It was getting disheartening. The state archeologist had shown up at the construction site demanding that they stop work until after he could perform a study of the land to assure that it wasn't archaeologically important. The archeologist had been followed by a wildlife biologist from the state who wanted to assure that there weren't any endangered species living in the area.
"If I understand things correctly, we should," Jonathan answered.
The Pfand had tasked more than a hundred members of the Curador family to defend Carl against the kind of harassment they were experiencing. There was some thought that whoever had the deepest pockets would win.
Head down sending a text message, Samantha said, "No. That is not advised in this case."
"Why not?" Carl asked.
"Don't ask that question," Samantha replied.
Carl had a pretty good idea that he knew what that answer meant. The Pfand was going to abduct and question an IRS agent. He knew that with the results of the audit in hand, there would be few questions asked of him when the man disappeared. He felt sorry for the other folks who had recently had an audit with negative findings or were in the process of having one done. They were going to be put through hell.
Carl asked, "Now what?"
Samantha looked around with a frown.
She said, "You are going to sit down on the ground behind that cement wall over there."
"Why?"
"Do it now!"
Carl went over to where she had indicated and sat down on the ground. The idea of what it was doing to his thousand dollar suit made him sick to his stomach. Samantha sent Jonathan away and then went to stand over Carl. She put her purse on the cement wall. Her hand was stuck into the fold of the purse which concealed her pistol.
"What's the matter?"
Samantha said, "Mike didn't reply to the text message I sent him."
Mike Speer was the driver of the limousine. He had been brought out of retirement for that purpose. He was the best defensive and offensive driver in the Wache family line. Once a month he taught officers in the State Police how to handle their cars in high speed chases. Even the best driver couldn't keep up with him on the high speed course.
"Maybe he's in the restroom," Carl said hoping that Mike was unharmed.
Worried, Samantha said, "No. There's something wrong."
"What are we supposed to do?"
"We're going to wait here until help shows up."
"How long will that take?" Carl asked.
The temptation to look over the cement wall was almost overwhelming. Each time he shifted position, Samantha pressed down on his head to keep him from popping up to take a look around. He was about to get frustrated when a sudden light breeze changed things.
Looking up, Carl said, "Nice view."
"Get your mind out of the gutter," Samantha said cracking a small smile.
"You wear granny panties."
"Of course I wear granny panties. You don't know misery until you've tried to run a mile wearing a thong," Samantha said.
"I can't imagine."
Relaxing a little, Samantha said, "Our people are here. It'll take them a minute to set up and then we'll get you into a car."
"I owe you one," Carl said.
"You'll pay it when we get home," Samantha said with a snicker.
"Willingly."
Herman walked over to where Carl was hidden.
He looked over the wall and asked, "Do you have any idea what that looks like?"
Carl nodded his head in the affirmative.
Samantha replied, "No. What does it look like?"
"He's on the ground between your legs. You're leaning over him trying to look nonchalant. I bet a dozen people walked past thinking he was doing obscene things of an oral nature to you," Herman said.
Keeping in character, Samantha said, "I'm his girlfriend."
"You better back away before they arrest you for performing an indecent act in public," Herman said.
Samantha stepped back.
"You're definitely going to have to start wearing pants," Herman said.
"Suck eggs and die," Samantha said.
Herman laughed.
Samantha asked, "What happened to Mike?"
"One of the local boys in blue had him spread eagle on the hood of the limousine," Herman answered.
"What in the hell for?"
Herman smiled. "I don't know, but the officer is trying to explain it to one of our lawyers right now."
Carl said, "I don't believe this shit."
Samantha got out a makeup case and a stick of lipstick out of her purse. After looking around to see if there was anyone close enough to listen, Samantha opened the makeup case and started to apply the lipstick.
She asked, "So was there a shooter stationed anywhere around here?"
"Not that we were able to find," Herman answered while smoothing out his mustache. "We're still looking."
"Keep looking," Samantha said.
Carl asked, "When am I going to be able to get up?"
"Not until I tell you," Samantha answered.
"This is ruining my suit," Carl said.
"You should see what blood stains do to a suit," Samantha said.
She paused and held up the mirror to check her lips.
She added, "Oh, I'm sorry. You won't be around to see what a blood stain does to your suit."
"I guess a little dirt won't hurt," Carl said.
She put away the stick of lipstick and examined her lips in the mirror. Samantha closed up the makeup case and returned it to her purse.
Samantha said, "The car is here. Let's go."
"With pleasure," Carl said.
The three of them scurried over to the car, moving quickly without appearing to run. They looked like important business people in a hurry.
Once they were in the car, Herman said, "Mike, take us to the house."
Samantha said, "Carl, when I tell you to move, you need to move."
Herman said, "Still breaking him in, I see."
"At least he didn't argue too much this time," Samantha said offhandedly.
Herman looked down at Carl. "Don't argue, just do."
"I know."
"If you know, then why did you argue?"
"I didn't realize she was telling me to do something for my safety. I thought she was just telling me to wait over there for the car."
"It doesn't matter why she's telling you to do something, when you're outside you just do it," Herman said.
"All right," Carl said.
Herman said, "For your information, that spot was probably the best place for you to wait for the car to arrive even if there wasn't an apparent problem. You had good cover, two exit routes, and a clear field of vision."
"This is ridiculous. I can't believe all of this cloak and dagger shit over a pickle factory," Carl said.
"Anyone else would have already given up by now. This is becoming personal with them by now," Herman said.
"It started being personal with me a long time ago," Carl said.
Herman said, "Well, we're getting closer to the bad guys."
"How much closer?" Carl asked.
"Much closer," Herman answered.
Trying to get an answer out of a member of the Wache family was like trying to get water out of a rock. It just wasn't going to happen. However, it did seem that each time something happened, they would make the comment that they were getting closer to finding who was behind the attempt to gain control over the world's food supply.
There was a low buzz of a cell phone on vibrate mode. Samantha reached in her purse and grabbed her cell phone. After a curt greeting, she listened for a minute and then closed it. She sat there for a second deep in thought.
"What's up?"
She said, "I just got news of some interesting developments. It appears that a private eye dropped his camera over the side of a building. His camera bag went over the side, too. The camera was totally destroyed. The poor guy, all of his pictures in it were ruined."
"That is interesting," Herman said.
They had known that someone had Carl under surveillance, but hadn't been able to catch him. Now they had caught him and soon they would have some questions answered.
"It also appears that our friendly IRS agent met someone right after Carl's meeting. The man he met didn't seem too happy with him. We let the IRS agent leave. As soon as he was out the door, our people picked up his friend," Samantha said.
Sounding disappointed, Herman said, "I was really looking forward to interviewing our friendly IRS agent. I've always wanted to see how one of them reacts when you put the fear of God into them."
"There's always next time," Samantha said.
"Next time?" Carl asked.
"You aren't the only one in this fight," Samantha said.
Carl said, "I guess I forget that at times."
"I do too."
"How are the others doing?"
"Haven't you been watching the news?" Herman asked.
"No. I've been buried up to my ass in lawyers and public relations people," Carl answered.
Samantha said, "That's true. We haven't seen a news broadcast in weeks."
Herman said, "Henry Plantar's place was burned to the ground earlier this week in an ATF raid on a suspected right-wing extremist. The initial story was that a fire started as a result of a smoke grenade malfunction. Authorities assume that he and his family died in the fire."
"Shit!" Samantha said.
Carl couldn't believe it. He knew that dairy farmers are chained to their cows morning and night seven days a week. They didn't have time to be extremists.
"Did they die?"
"No, they are on their way to Iceland."
Carl was shocked. "Iceland? Why in the hell are they going to Iceland?"
Samantha answered, "If you were to name the top one hundred places people select to hide when running from the law, you would quickly discover that Iceland is not one of them. As a result, it is a good place to run to."
"Where would you send me?" Carl asked.
He didn't like cold weather and couldn't imagine being happy living in Iceland. With no offense intended to Icelanders, he couldn't imagine anyone being happy there.
Herman said, "The ATF and FBI probably won't be breaking your door down accusing you of being a right-wing extremist. They only do that for folks out in the country. You're a businessman and live in the suburbs. They'll grab you for fraud, embezzlement, drugs, rape, or murder."
"That's reassuring to know," Carl said sarcastically.
He figured that they would lock him up and throw away the key. He wondered if he was going to become the modern equivalent of the 'Man in the Iron Mask.'
Samantha said, "Don't be so negative. I'm sure that the bad guys will try to burn you out before the Feds get to you."
"Jeez Louise."
Carl sat there thinking about what Tom had said about powerful men punishing individuals who chose to challenge them. He wondered if he would end up on skid row, addicted to heroin or wearing an aluminum hat and babbling about the government beaming rays into his head after receiving a lobotomy. He was firmly convinced that these bastards were the kind who would make sure you survived just well enough to know that you had been royally screwed and that there was nothing you could do about it.
"Don't worry. You've got us protecting you," Herman said.
"What's going to happen with Henry Plantar and his family?"
Herman answered, "I wouldn't worry about them. Unbeknownst to anyone other than ... well ... us, they had chosen to leave on a vacation the morning of the incident. They'll return home in a week or two shocked and dismayed to discover that their house was burned to the ground by the government. I believe they will become very wealthy as a result of this."
"How?"
Herman answered, "Since everyone assumes they're dead, we've filed a one billion dollar lawsuit on behalf of their next of kin against the federal government. Now that made the news."
"They're going to toss a lawsuit like that out of court. You can't sue the government for damages made while trying to execute a warrant," Carl said.
"Yes and no."
"It's pretty clear cut, if I recall correctly."
Herman said, "It turns out that there was a camera on the barn that caught the whole raid. Somehow or another, the Feds missed it during their search of the property. Unfortunately for them, the film and their report on the event don't agree very well. The incendiary grenade they fired at the house bounced off the window rather than flying through it – something about bullet proof glass that had been purchased in an auction. It is quite an impressive video. You should watch the news."
The original report had stated quite clearly that the Plantars were firing out the windows of the house at the agents when they approached it. The video clearly showed that no one was at the windows. At the time the family was supposed to be resisting, they were actually halfway through the escape tunnel to the abandoned house on the farm next door. By the time the firetrucks arrived, the Plantars were on a Wagner jet bound for Iceland.
Mike came to a stop in the driveway of Carl's house. "We're here."
Carl looked over at the front window. Although they couldn't hear him, they could see Skippy standing on the arm of a chair barking at the big black car. Carl smiled upon seeing the dog. He couldn't help but think back to what David had said about appreciating the welcome when arriving home.
Upon stepping out of the car, Car watched Skippy stop barking and start wagging his tail. The dog disappeared from view while the group made their way to the front door. They entered the house only to be greeted by a very excited dog.
"Hello, Skippy," Carl said kneeling down and petting the dog.
Herman said, "You should probably spend a little watching television. There's some pretty serious things happening in the government."
"Like what?" Carl asked.
"You'll see," Herman answered. "Now, I've got to interview a bad guy."
Carl closed the door behind Herman and set the house to lock-down. He sat down on the floor in his dirty suit and played with the dog.
Samantha said, "I didn't know about Henry Plantar."
"At least he wasn't killed," Carl said.
"We ought to practice getting to the escape tunnel," Samantha said.
"That might be a good idea."
"Let me find Jennifer and we'll make some timed runs," Samantha said.
Jennifer came out of the bedroom looking horrible. Her eyes were red and puffy. It was obvious that she had been crying.
"What's the matter?" Carl asked while getting off the floor to go to her.
"They killed Mark Cura," Jennifer answered nearly breaking into tears when she said his name.
Carl staggered back in shock. Mark Cura had been a classmate of theirs at the Cura Private School. They had spent twelve years together. Mark had been the funniest guy in the entire school. He had a quick wit and could slide into a serious discussion the most horrible pun imaginable – all with a straight face. Everyone liked Mark. He was just that kind of guy.
They even kept in touch after graduating. He had talked to Mark only two weeks ago. Mark had been accepted into law school and was working over the summer in his father's law firm. He was looking forward to spending time around the lawyers, listening to their stories and watching them at work.
"How?" Samantha asked.
Jennifer flew into Carl's arms sobbing wildly. Carl stood there holding her, unable to believe that Mark Cura had died. It didn't seem possible.
Samantha asked, "How did he die?"
Jennifer answered, "He was shot."
"What happened?" Samantha asked.
Jennifer couldn't answer.
Seeing that she wasn't going to get an answer from Jennifer, Samantha went into the living room and turned on the television hoping that it might be covered in the news. It was definitely being covered, as one might expect when a high ranking government official was the key suspect in a murder.
John Stevenson, an under secretary in the Department of Agriculture, had stormed into the law offices of Cura and Burgess waving a gun. After terrifying the secretarial staff, he had gone into the office of Robert Cura and fired his gun until it was empty, killing Mark Cura in the process. A security guard had subdued the the man and held him until the police arrived.
There were no questions about the motive. The shooting took place shortly after an audio recording of John threatening the life of Robert Cura had been released to the press. In the recording, which almost every news service discounted as forged, John had made mention of evidence linking him to serious crimes that had been turned over to a Federal Prosecutor by Robert. John had stated that the Federal Prosecutor had buried the evidence and that if Robert ever opened his mouth about the matter that he would be buried right beside the evidence.
Robert Cura, along with a body guard, had been at one of the news stations handing over copies of the tapes showing John Stevenson engaged in criminal activities. The tapes showed him taking bribes from several large agro-corporations and ordering a number of family farms to be seized without due process. The news station was hesitant about showing the tapes until their legal staff had cleared them. Clearance came after the news story broke about the shooting.
The tapes made when taking bribes were particularly devastating to a number of influential individuals - not only to John Stevenson and the executives who handed over the money. A lot of names had been mentioned, as well as their roles in following the agenda which was to be pursued. Specific congressmen were named, as were the amounts of money they were to receive in exchange for turning a blind eye to any complaints from farmers in the jurisdictions.
The recorded conversations, in which he ordered the farms to be seized, were particularly sickening. He joked about how he'd like to watch the sad faces of the farmers while they were being forced off their farms. He laughed about how, despite the fact that the reasons were bogus, the farmers were too small to fight big government.
The Federal Prosecutor to whom the evidence had been submitted was not available for comment. None of the executives who had been captured on film were willing to make a public statement. The congressmen who had been named disavowed any interaction with John Stevenson. In essence, a lot of powerful people were hiding, either physically or metaphorically.
In what might have been interesting news if anyone had bothered to take note of it, the stock prices for the companies employing those executives had not changed a cent that day. It appeared that Wall Street did not see that kind of management tactics as a negative.
Samantha said, "He's the second of the Pfand to die in this war. I fear there will be more."
"I don't get it," Carl said.
"What don't you get?" Samantha asked.
Carl said, "That guy was an asshole. Surely someone noticed what he was doing."
"I'm sure that a lot of people noticed," Jennifer said fighting back a sniffle.
"So why didn't anyone do anything?"
"They did. They got in line for the bribe money," Samantha said in disgust.
Carl said, "There's got to be some honest people left."
"There are. They're the ones losing their farms," Samantha said.
In a way, Carl was the innocent among the three despite the situation in which he was embroiled. Samantha had spent years in the protection business. She had first hand experience with the less honest members of society. Jennifer had been involved in the harsh world of 'congress of trade' – seeking information from the rich and powerful.
"I just don't see how they could get away with it."
Jennifer said, "Those kinds of people were my customers. They don't see people the same way that you or I do. To them, people are little pencil dots on a page of paper. If the dot is in the wrong place, they just erase it. That's what they see themselves as doing. They are removing dots to make the picture they want."
"And these are the people running our country?"
Jennifer answered, "Yes. They are running our government, our large corporations ... and, even, our charities."
"And we are nothing to them?"
Jennifer said, "That's right. You see, they like to work with big numbers, not individuals."
"What do you mean?" Carl asked afraid of the answer.
Jennifer answered, "Let's see, there are three hundred million people in this country so if we take a hundred dollars from each person every year that translates to thirty billion dollars in revenue per year. Thirty billion a year isn't enough? Then just take two hundred dollars and you get sixty billion. Pretty soon, you're talking big money. It's easy when you do the math.
"There's a problem with the math. If you have to deal with individuals and individual choice, how can one person deal with three hundred million people? You can't, so you don't.
"Instead, you deal with the collective. You pass laws and regulations that force everyone into the behavior that you want. You force the exclusion of the choices you don't want the masses to make. You push conformity rather than individualism. You use peer pressure to get the individualists to do as you want. You shape the game so that people have no choice except to give you the money.
"And if all else fails, then lie. Give false statistics, make fake promises, and say what people want to hear rather than the unpleasant truth. Shout down the naysayers. Bribe the guardians of truth. Convince people that the things they remember weren't really that way. Remake reality as you want others to believe it to be."
"I don't want to believe that things are that bad," Carl said.
"Twenty or thirty people were identified in this scandal. Two or three will be prosecuted. Why not the others? Well, you didn't hear the tapes correctly. It was all hearsay and not fact. No, it wasn't hearsay – just a couple of jerks dropping names to sound important. That wasn't really money, and it wasn't really a bribe, but a campaign contribution. Senator So-and-so wasn't even there," Jennifer said.
She sighed and said, "I would attend a party and hear a dozen jerks spin the truth. They'd talk about how to sell some ridiculous scheme to people, and how much money they'd make as a result. There was no respect for people. It was sickening."
Samantha said, "Users. They are all users."
Edited By TeNderLoin